


Beneath It All

by Tangela



Series: Boy toy named Troy used to live in Detroit [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Chassis Connor, Feelings, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Hank Anderson Has Self-Esteem Issues, M/M, Scars, This is so soft my dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangela/pseuds/Tangela
Summary: Connor has self-esteem issues just the same as Hank does.





	Beneath It All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PillowLord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PillowLord/gifts).



> Here is my contribution to the Hankcon Valentine's Exchange - some tooth-rotting fluff for @pillowlord. I hope you like it!
> 
> Content warning - there are some mentions of scars in this fic. It's nothing explicit, but I thought I should put a warning just in case. Also Connor could be read as having Body Dysmorphic Disorder, which is something I also suffer from. Again, nothing explicit, but I don't want to upset anyone (although I actually found it quite cathartic to write). Anyway, enjoy!

A few months had passed since the revolution, and things were slowly but surely returning to normal. Of course, with some major changes in the way that androids were treated. Markus, with Jericho fighting alongside him, had been fighting tirelessly for laws and regulations to be put in place that gave androids equal footing in society, and slowly people were beginning to come around. Things were far from perfect, but it was definitely a step in the right direction.

In the aftermath of it all, Connor, having reached the end of his original purpose, had had no place to go, and so Hank had suggested that he stay with him for a while, just until he figured something better out for himself. He hadn’t expected Connor to react so eagerly to the idea. With nothing but the clothes on his back to call his own, Connor had moved in that very same evening.

Hank had figured that Connor would be gone within a week or two. He had friends in Jericho, after all, and without the need to eat or sleep, he had very little stopping him from going just about anywhere in the world, if he so chose. Still, Hank couldn’t but feel a little relieved when Connor showed no signs of leaving. It was nice to have someone besides him and the dog around the house again. He always had something interesting to talk about, didn’t nag at Hank for his bad habits as much as Hank had originally thought he might, the house was a hell of a lot cleaner, and as a bonus, Connor wasn’t all that bad a cook. He tried not to think about it too much, but Hank honestly found himself missing Connor a little on the evenings when he wasn’t around.

Living with someone brings a whole host of their habits and quirks to one’s attention that may have gone unnoticed otherwise, and Hank had found no exception in Connor. His coin tricks were something he was more than used to by now, and he’d noticed that Connor rubbed his hands together almost nervously from time to time – something he’d done before he’d deviated, possibly to make himself look more human. Hank had suggested that Connor find himself a hobby, something to do outside of work, and Connor seemed to find great joy in collecting things. Within a week, his desk was covered in succulents of varying shapes and sizes. Not long after, he’d started collecting coins. Hank had to admit, it brought a smile to his face, seeing how Connor lit up when he’d given him a jar of old change that had been lying around in a cupboard for years.

Connor had one more little habit that was a lot more subtle than the others, and it took Hank a while to even notice it. Although androids don’t feel pain in the same sense as humans do, they could still take damage and needed to tend to repairs in the same way humans would need to tend to injuries. And Connor would always find somewhere private to repair himself. It wasn’t something that had bothered Hank at first; after all, it wasn’t as if he was particularly overjoyed to see someone injure themselves, and humans often tried to clean up cuts and wounds privately for fear of disgusting or scaring someone anyway.

And then Hank began to notice that Connor would spend ridiculous amounts of time in the bathroom. He never heard the shower running, and he found himself wondering just what the hell Connor was doing in there by himself for so long. He never asked about it; it seemed unfair for him to pry into Connor’s newfound privacy, and he’d feel like a hypocrite for asking, considering how often he himself used to hide in the bathroom. Of course, that was when he was a teenager, and there were some very specific reasons as to _why_ he’d be spending so much time alone in the only room in the house with a lock on the door. It was usually at this point that Hank would decide that the volume of the TV was far too low for his liking and he didn’t need to think about what Connor might be up to in there anymore, thank you very much.

Hank still wasn’t quite sure what he and Connor were. Of course they were partners, and roommates for the foreseeable future, but sometimes Hank found himself wondering beyond that. Friends wasn’t quite enough, and lovers was far too much. Neither of them had brought it up, and since Hank knew that Connor had no shame when it came to talking about things like that, he figured that if it needed talking about, it would have happened by now. Which left Hank wondering if it even _needed_ to be talked about. What was there to talk about? Yes, Hank found himself comfortable being around someone for the first time in a long time, and yes, maybe they’d crossed the line a few times. But that all depended on where the line was, didn’t it?

Maybe Connor’s line was further along than Hank’s. Maybe Connor didn’t see the occasional kiss on the cheek or hug as anything more than what friends do. Hank never did anything to stop or deter him, it wasn’t as if he was doing anything wrong, after all. Maybe he’d inadvertently taught Connor that that was a totally normal thing to do. Yeah, that was probably all it was.

When Connor would eventually re-emerge from the bathroom, Hank tried not to make it seem obvious that he’d been thinking about him, or what he was doing in there. Connor would sit down next to him and they’d pass the evening quietly together, while Hank tried to think no more about it.

 

 

It wasn’t until Connor had been injured on a case that Hank finally pieced together what the hell was going on. In an attempt to escape, the perp had shot at Connor, hitting him in the leg. It would have spelled the end of the chase for Hank, but Connor had just brushed it off, even after they’d brought the asshole in for questioning.

Still, something about Connor’s behaviour wasn’t sitting right with Hank, and he said as much.

“I’m fine,” Connor insisted, despite Hank’s pestering.

“You are not fine. Hell, Connor, you’re limping,” Hank griped, putting a hand on Connor’s shoulder and guiding him to a chair.

He crouched down in front of Connor, trying to get a better look at his leg. Connor immediately grabbed Hank’s hand before he could get any closer.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, and when Hank looked up, he could see fear in Connor’s eyes.

“Does it hurt that bad?” he asked softly.

Connor shook his head. “Androids don’t feel pain, we just know how to react to it to prevent ourselves from being damaged,” he explained.

Hank knew that, but the way he was acting…It didn’t fit. He tried not to focus on the fact that Connor still had a vice-like grip on his hand.

“Then what is it? Connor.”

Connor let go of Hank’s hand and pushed himself to his feet. Hank could see how wobbly he was, despite how hard he was trying to hide it.

“I’ll get it fixed, it’ll be fine,” he said, and Hank wasn’t sure just who he was trying to reassure.

“At least let me come with y-”

“I’m fine, Hank,” Connor insisted through gritted teeth, and Hank didn’t think it best to push him anymore.

He stepped aside, watching Connor as he all but hobbled out of the room.

 

 

When Hank came home from work that evening, it was to find Connor already there, dressed down and curled up on the couch with a blanket around his legs and Sumo lying next to him, the dog’s big head in his lap. He turned around when he heard the door close, greeting Hank a smile before turning his attention back to the TV.

“Everything go okay?” Hank asked as he hung up his coat.

“Yes, it was just a standard repair,” Connor replied, “I’ll be back to work tomorrow.”

As much as Hank didn’t want to pry, something still seemed off about Connor. He shooed a dozing Sumo off the couch and sat down. He couldn’t help but notice Connor’s hand tightening on the blanket, as if in an attempt to protect himself.

Sumo must have been able to sense the tension, butting his head gently against Connor’s hand. Connor smiled at him, carding his fingers through the dog’s fur. Hank just watched them both for a moment, trying to figure out what he was going to say. He had to be careful about it. Connor seemed very uptight, and Hank didn’t want to upset him any further.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” is what fell out of his mouth instead, and he could have kicked himself.

Well, too late now.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connor responded almost immediately, seeming to focus even more of his attention on Sumo.

Hank sighed tiredly.

“Cut the crap, Con,” he said, but he didn’t sound angry. “Something’s up, and I’m worried about you. Now you’re allowed to have your own private life, it’s not my right to deprive you of that. But whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to be making you happy. Just…whenever you’re ready to talk, you know I’m here, alright?”

Hank’s gentle tone seemed to soften something in Connor and he let out a little sigh, giving Sumo one last pet before turning his attention to the blanket as he slowly stretched out his legs.

“Promise you won’t laugh,” he said quietly, nervously pulling the blanket away and pulling up the bottoms of his sweatpants.

Hank looked down at Connor’s legs. One of them was looked like a completely normal human leg to him, and the other was bright white, made of a smooth, shiny plastic material.

“The technician said it would take a little while before the program reinstalled and for the skin cover to come back,” Connor explained, not quite able to look Hank in the eye.

That’s all this was about? Hank could have laughed with relief. But he promised Connor he wouldn’t.

“What were you afraid of?” he asked instead.

Connor shrugged, and it was so natural that Hank could have very easily forgotten that he wasn’t human.

“I-I didn’t want you to see,” he murmured.

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want to remind you of what I really am. I thought…I thought maybe…”

Hank found himself leaning in closer, grasping at every one of Connor’s words as if his life depended on it.

“You thought maybe what?”

“I thought you wouldn’t find me attractive, if you knew,” Connor replied, quickly looking up at Hank in horror as the realisation of what he’d just said hit him.

Hank swallowed. Connor was clearly beginning to panic, and although Hank was never good in these situations, he knew he had to be the one to take control. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it off.

“Hank, what are you-”

“See this?” Hank asked before he could freak out at what he had just done, pointing at a long scar on his left side. “Stab wound from a robbery. Bastard stuck the knife in me just as I’d cornered him.”

Connor fell quiet, watching with something similar to fascination in his eyes. Hank forced himself to keep going.

“This here was when I broke a glass in Jimmy’s about…God, going on ten years ago now,” he continued, pointing at a right-angle shaped nick closer to his back than his side, “Fowler won’t tell you this, but he’s got one almost the same on his arm. Slipped in the drink puddle and pulled me down with him. That’s just how you want a work night out to end, in the emergency room.”

Hank fidgeted for a moment before he continued. “And this…”

He traced a finger along a scar that stretched from his shoulder down the right side of his chest.

“This is from the night I…” He swallowed thickly. “The night I lost Cole.”

Connor’s eyes were still roaming over his scars, and Hank reached out to take his hand, pressing it gently against his chest.

“They aren’t pretty, but they’re a part of me. Part of who I am. For better or for worse,” he said quietly.

Connor’s fingers slowly roamed across the scar, his brow furrowed. He withdrew his hand after a time, and looked up at Hank.

“This can’t have been easy for you to do.”

Hank fidgeted with the balled-up shirt in his hands. “I’ve been through worse,” he said with a little smile.

Connor chewed at his lower lip, as if in thought. “I think it’s only fair that I do the same for you,” he said at last.

“Con, you don’t have to-” Hank started, and Connor shook his head.

“Please. Let me. Before I change my mind.”

Hank just nodded, unsure as to what to expect.

Connor closed his eyes, and his human appearance began to melt away. Skin, hair, eyelashes, all of it, until all he was left with was the stark white plastic underneath.

“This…is what I really am,” he said shakily, eyes still shut.

Hank let his gaze wander, taking in every plane and line of Connor’s face. He tentatively reached out, pressing a hand to Connor’s cheek. Connor jolted, his eyes now wide open in something closer to apprehension than fear.

“I always knew this is who you were, no matter how human you look,” Hank said softly, tracing his thumb across the plastic of Connor’s face.

Connor frowned. “And you don’t…This doesn’t…”

Hank took a breath. Connor had started this, it was only fair that he finish it. “You’re still beautiful to me, no matter how you look,” he said in a whisper.

Connor pressed his face closer to Hank’s hand, wrapping his fingers around Hank’s wrist.

“You wanna know why?”

Connor nodded.

“Because it’s still you. No matter what you look like, it’s all still you,” Hank continued. He could feel his voice beginning to tremble, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “And you’ve still got those big brown eyes that I fell in love with.”

There it was. Out in the open, plain as day. There was no taking it back now. And if Hank was honest with himself, he didn’t want to. He suddenly felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It wasn’t something he’d let himself think about, he’d been too scared. Too scared to face his feelings and deal with the shit that came with it. The rejection, in whichever way Connor might have delivered it: in patronising sympathy or the slam of the front door.

No matter how this panned out, at least he didn’t have to live with any more secrets. But Connor’s own little outburst, his soft hand against Hank’s, and those beautiful brown eyes…Hank had lost faith in love a long time ago, but even he’d be a fool not to see what was sitting right in front of him.

“Hank, I…” Connor began after a time, his voice wavering.

“Yeah?”

“I’d…like to kiss you. May I?”

Connor’s voice was so full of innocence and uncertainty that Hank couldn’t stop the smile that was creeping onto his face. He nodded, and then Connor was leaning in close to him, or maybe he was the one leaning in, but Connor’s lips were against his, warm and soft, and it didn’t matter a bit either way. Hank moved to press his other hand against Connor’s face, and Connor’s hands were gripping his forearms, biting at his skin, as if he was afraid that Hank would leave him.

When Hank eventually pulled back, it was to find that Connor hadn’t tried to cover himself up again. He pressed a kiss to the white of Connor’s forehead with a smile.

“You aren’t repulsed by me?” Connor asked in barely more than a whisper.

Hearing that, in such a tiny, frightened voice, hurt Hank’s heart. He pulled back slightly, looking Connor in the eye.

“You aren’t repulsed by _me_?” he echoed.

Connor shook his head vehemently, and Hank smiled.

“Well then, there’s your answer,” he said with a smile.

Connor smiled back, with a warmth and depth that no machine should be capable of. But then, he was really only a machine in the physical sense now. He was well and truly alive.

Connor closed the distance between them to kiss Hank again, this time with a kind of quiet desperation, now that he knew that he wouldn’t be met with rejection. Hank pulled him closer, and he went willingly, climbing into Hank’s lap.

 Hank was very aware that he was still shirtless, but Connor’s hands roaming gently along his bare skin did more than enough to ease the gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. His fingers trailed across the lines of Hank’s scars so delicately, it was almost reverent, and Hank found himself needing to touch Connor in return, feel him under his own hands. See him. All of him.

He traced his hands lightly along the hem of Connor’s shirt, testing the water. Connor wasn’t even bothering to try and stop him, and Hank dared push further, sliding his hands under Connor’s shirt, exploring the lines of his chest and stomach with his fingers. Connor seemed to understand what Hank wanted, pulling away for a moment to strip off his shirt and toss it to the side. Hank pressed his hands against Connor’s shoulders as he tried to lean in again.

“Hank-”

“Just…let me look at you for a minute.” He looked up at Connor, trying to read him. “Please?”

Connor looked visibly nervous, but he nodded. Hank mirrored Connor’s movements from before, tracing soft lines across his skin. He found himself thinking back to the beginning of their relationship. How closed-off he’d been towards Connor, even downright hateful. And now here they were, whole worlds apart from that cold night in November. Stripped bare in front of each other, in more ways than one.

“Perfect,” Hank murmured, as much to himself as to Connor.

He ran a hand up along Connor’s neck, resting it against his cheek.

“You don’t have to hide from me anymore, okay? This…This is as much you as your human face. And both are just as beautiful.”

Connor took Hank’s hand in his own, pressing a kiss to the palm.

“The same goes for you,” he said with a warm smile.

“I’m gonna work on it. Promise,” Hank replied with a smile of his own.

Now that they knew how the other felt, Hank wanted to make up for all of the time they could have had. There was still a lot more for them to figure out and talk about, but for now, Hank let himself just be in the moment. After all, they had all the time in the world together.

**Author's Note:**

> No matter how many times I write these two falling in love, I never tire of it. Feel free to yell soft things at me in the comments.
> 
> tumblr: @maybeishouldwritesomething  
> Twitter: @robospacetrash


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